Shadow Across The Hub
by ZabellaCookie
Summary: Shade works for MI5, and his partner Jerry had this idea. Torchwood appeared to be struggling with this freaky children thing. Why not send their resident freak to help him out? Rated M for excessive swearing and general awesome
1. Chapter 1

**Okay. I know what you're thinking. Actually, I don't, I'm not Shade after all, but I can guess. I've turned over a new leaf (I hope). This story's gonna be around for a while (:**

**BEGIN!**

Day 3.

The third day of this awful catastrophe, and Jerry O'Shea had finally made his decision. Torchwood could bluff all they liked about how in control they were, but it was obvious to him, at least, that everything was falling apart. He'd heard a rumour that Jack Harkness had been blown up. He remembered wincing when he heard. But nobody had winced harder than Shade. When Jerry had asked him why he had such an extreme reaction to it, when he knew that the Captain wasn't dead, the man had clammed up completely. Again. Jerry sighed gustily. There was no telling what his little protégé was thinking at the best of times, and it was a little disturbing since Jerry knew that Shade could definitely hear everything he was thinking. That was the thing about working with Shade. It was a bit of a gamble whether he'd take a shine to you, and if he didn't...Well, three of his previous partners had died in mysterious circumstances. Jerry, though, was a little different. An ex-Army sergeant, he refused to be cowed by a twenty-year-old with ambition bigger than he was. They'd come to uneasy, respectful partnership at first, then for no apparent reason, Shade had come in one morning, set a (frankly, delicious) breakfast on his desk and smiled his odd, lopsided grin. Jerry had smiled back uncertainly, complimented his cooking, and gotten on well with Shade from that day on.

Nobody knew Shade's real name. He was sort of 'on loan' from his department, but Jerry had heard that nobody there knew who he was either, that some old civil servant had gotten him the job and then left him to it. Well, fair enough. Shade was one of their best operative, even if the ay he worked was a little odd. Shade had a gun, all right, and he knew how to use it, but he rarely did. Shade preferred knives. He'd told Jerry once that just because stuff is out of date doesn't mean it's like blasphemy to use it. An old Japanese master had taught the kid, but that had been all Jerry could get from anywhere until yesterday. He'd been looking for a way to convince Shade that this Torchwood idea was a good one. It wasn't Shade's fault that he didn't believe him, not really. Jerry was infamous around the MI5 building for his schemes, which failed spectacularly more often than not. It was a tribute to how well Jerry and Shade worked together that neither were dead yet. Shade might have some strange weapons, including the katana he kept strapped to his back, but he was unnaturally quick and strong for somebody of his height and build. Having never worked with Shade's department before, Jerry had once asked him if his skills were normal.

Shade had laughed.

But now, he had some leverage with his partner. It turned out that Shade's sensei had had a family after all. Jerry had only had word of mouth to go on, but the plan had worked out quite nicely, for once:

_Jerry rapped smartly on the door, three times, as he always did. He saw Shade frantically swing is legs down off his desk and kick abandoned paperwork all over the floor of his office. No doubt he thought that Maria was knocking. Both she and Jerry knocked in the same way, as strange as it sounds, and shade never thought to 'scan' them as he called it. It was a respect thing, apparently. Or maybe it was that Jerry and Maria knew just how similar their mannerisms were, and they knew about Shade's 'skills' as well. If he was suddenly able to tell them apart, he'd be in for a bollocking._

_Jerry walked in without an invitation to do so. Shade was a cranky, arrogant, snarky son of a bitch, but he weirdly didn't mind people just walking into his office. Jerry and Maria were the only people who knocked, and consequently the only people he was afraid of. Well, he was afraid of Jerry's cooking, and his wild plans, anyway. Maria was the only person alive who actually scared Shade. A stern, middle aged woman, she ran the department with an iron fist, and had threatened Shade more times than anybody else still breathing. Shade was terrified of her for no discernable reason, since she could have been dispatched easily, but to Jerry it seemed like the dark man was actually quite fond of her. Laughing softly, Jerry pushed into the office, gingerly picking his way through the mini snowfall of letters and forms that Shade had swept off the desk in his attempts to look hardworking._

"_Oh," Shade breathed, obviously relieved. "What do you want?"_

_Jerry wasn't offended in the least, that kind of reply was typical Shade. He completely understood manners, he was flawlessly polite and charming to Maria, who didn't buy any of it, but wouldn't stand for anything less than perfect manners. For people not so picky, Shade reserved his most dismissive tones. He was so arrogant at times, but he had earned it: out of the entire department, he was their best. Jerry's 'sources' had heard a whisper that Shade had been transferred because he was lacking in some sort of skill that his old department required, but Jerry couldn't work out for the life of him what it was._

"_Shade," ventured Jerry carefully, knowing he was treading on thin ice here. Shade hated to hear or talk about anything from his past, but Jerry was hoping that, just this once, he'd hear him out. "Your sensei, what was his name?"_

_Shade's eyes narrowed, and Jerry winced. He'd been caught trying to be too subtle, and in Shade's books that was too close to lying. Jerry was proved right when Shade rose fluidly to his feet and stared the older man down, voice like crackling lightning._

"_Don't bullshit me Jerry. I told you this last week. What's your game?"_

_Jerry swallowed and straightened his spine. "His granddaughter. Toshiko, I believe."_

_Shade's eyes narrowed even further, and Jerry knew he had to get this over with as quickly as possible. "Yes?" his partner purred._

"_She worked at Torchwood," Jerry said slowly, picking his words carefully._

_Shade flapped a hand at him, the tension easing as he voiced a familiar line. "Don't speak slow to me Jerry, I'm not some sort of retard."_

_Jerry smiled a little. "So, will you do it now?"_

_Shade smiled as well, a pearly white tooth slipped threateningly over the pale skin below the man's full red lips. It couldn't be denied that Shade was very attractive, but to the frustration of a good chunk of the people in the department, he refused to sleep around, claiming to already have a boyfriend, though nobody had ever seen him. "Do what,Jerry?"_

_Jerry's grin widened. Cat and mouse it was, then. "Don't speak to me innocent Shade. I'm not soe sort of retard."_

_You are though, if you think I'm going to go there." Shade said casually, inspecting a broken nail and sighing dramatically. _

"_Why not?" _

"_It seems our government is not fond of those of us unlucky enough not to die."_

_Jerry raised a black eyebrow peppered with grey._

"_THEY BLEW HIM UP!" snarled the man across from him, his green eyes flashing dangerously. Jerry stepped back in shock, hands lifted up to protect his face as Shade took a threatening step towards him. "THEY BLEW HIM UP AND PUT HIM IN CONCRETE!" _

_Shade seemed to come back to himself and his body trembled delicately with restraint as he stepped back, away from his obviously terrified friend. Jerry was backed up against the wall, but he kept his head. This wasn't the first time Shade had refused a mission. And whenever Shade didn't get his way, the tantrums that followed were infamously explosive and violent. And this story of the immortal with a bomb in his liver had struck a nerve within the man. Jerry knew little about Shade's abilities compared to Maria, who seemed to know everything. But he did know that Shade could not die, was faster and stronger than any human he knew and that he knew what people were thinking. But once Maria had briefed him on these main traits, Jerry's sharp eyes picked out other little details of Shade's behaviour. Like how he only picked at food, even those he professed to love. And he came into the office in the afternoon and left in the early hours, without incurring Maria's wrath. It was peculiar, to say the least._

"_Shade. You will accept." The icy cold tones of their boss rag through the office. Both men froze, and Maria stepped calmly through the chaos. Shade nodded stiffly, hating it but completely unable to refuse. Her blue eyes pierced Shade's green ones, and he visibly cringed, while Jerry smirked over the diminutive woman's shoulder. Shade glowered imperceptibly, but was distracted by their boss speaking again. "Clean up this mess. And in the future," her eyes swept swiftly around the enclosed space before fixing on Shade again. _

"_Please, try not to be so childish."_

_With those words, she strode back out of the door and shut it quietly and politely. Both men let out an explosive sigh of relief and Shade shook his head in disbelief. "She didn't knock!" he muttered._

_Jerry snorted with laughter and mocked the other's stiff nod. "You are _so_ whipped!" he crowed, snapping his arm like a man with a whip and whispering, "Wapoosh!"_

_Shade scowled and turned back to his desk. It was obvious that he was trying not to be provoked. Of course, this kind of attitude never lasted long with Shade. As soon as he reached the desk he scooped up a heavy paperweight like It was piece of paper itself, and flung it hard at Jerry's face. He knew the ex-Army man was certainly capable of catching it. But Jerry was too busy laughing and the ornament smacked into his stomach before he gathered his wits enough. His laughter turned wheezy and he coughed once as the metal thing had winded him quite a bit. Shade sent a satisfied smirk his way Jerry bit the inside of his lip for a second, wondering if what he was going to say would be going too far. If it was, there was a chance Shade would kill him. Jerry shrugged mentally and said it anyway._

"_You know Shade, that sort of gratuitous violence is _so_ childish."_

_Grinning cheekily, Jerry lobbed the paperweight back at his partner and skipped nimbly out of the door. He was pretty quick for a man of his age and build, but he had still only barely closed the wooden door when the paperweight thumped dully on the other side, denting the door._

Jerry smiled at the memory and glanced across to the man walking sullenly by his side. Shade was a short thing, but much like Maria, he managed to pack a lot of scary into that small frame. He was scowling angrily at the cold Cardiff air. He didn't want to be here, he'd nearly been hysterical this morning on the train, muttering again about crazed civil servant who thought it was big and clever to plant bombs in immortals. Jerry was a little worried about the bomb paranoia Shade was exhibiting, but he put it down to it being a new threat. From what he knew, Shade had been shot in various painful places, and stabbed, cut, chopped and scarred more times than Jerry would ever know. But he doubted anybody had ever had the forethought to place a bomb in the dangerous man. For a start, Shade would read your intentions long before you ever carried them out. And if shade knew you were planning some serious shit, it was game over.

Jerry nudged the man and he scowled up at him. "I hate you," said Shade petulantly. But like most little kids, he soon forgot his hate. "Do they know we're coming?"

Jerry cocked his head to the side thoughtfully. "No, actually," he admitted. "I'll call Captain Harkness now." Shade huffed, and Jerry ignored him, concentrating on fishing out his phone.

Of course, being in the secret service, Jerry was pretty clued up on technology, but he input the number deliberately slowly to annoy Shade.

"Hello, Jerry O'Shea here. No, I'm MI5. We've been sent to give you a helping hand as it were..."

Jerry waited patiently as the American voice argued its case on the other end of the line. Shade, though, was not so patient. He didn't like to wait for people he didn't even know futilely try to get them to leave them alone. He pitied this Captain Jack because of his bomb incident, but that didn't mean he'd like him. He respected plenty of people in his department, like Maria, if only for how well she'd manipulated him into this particular mission. But in the whole department, Jerry was the only person he could genuinely call a friend. They hadn't gotten on well at first, but Shade, after a few 'practice' missions to test the man's capability, decided to try to get to know him. He only used a surface scan, barely noticeable, but Shade had picked up many things. Jerry had seen some bad shit in the war in Iraq, and after the entire company under his command was killed in a car bomb, he was forcefully transferred to MI5. Much like Shade himself, he had allowed the job to grow on him, though he'd hated it at first. He had a lovely wife, who Shade had met in person a few times. She liked to keep the rangy man fed, and spoke to him like a son-in-law, which was comforting after he had got used to her attitude. His children were still young, but nice enough all the same. All these things had led Shade to get Jerry breakfast that morning. He liked to cook, and he knew he could do it well. It was one of the few activities he had patience for, which had surprised Jerry at first, since he was infamously impatient.

He exhibited this now by slapping the phone out of Jerry's hand as the American nattered on and on. Shade interrupted irreverently.

"Listen to me you fucking American bastard. Me and my partner are coming over right now to your little warehouse, alright? If we get there and you're gone, I will find you, disembowel you and use your guts for streamers at my godson's birthday party next week, alright? Good, I'm glad we understand each other."

Shade snapped the phone closed and tossed it at Jerry, who caught it rather impressively with his left hand, as his right was still smarting from being smacked by Shade. The older man simply raised an eyebrow and asked, "You have a godson?"

"Mmm," Shade replied distractedly. "His name's Teddy. He turns six next Thursday."


	2. Chapter 2

It was cold, and if there was one thing Shade was pissed off about, it was that. Of course, there wasn't just _one _thing he was pissed off about, but the fucking cold as definitely one of them. Shade stubbornly refused to wrap his coat around him any further, because Jerry would notice the movement and laugh at him for being a wuss. Well, it was alright for Jerry, who was wearing his giant Army coat that snow ran away from, screaming in fear. Shade was dressed like a normal person, and was therefore pretty cold. It was actually only autumn, but Shade's body didn't make all that much of its own heat, he was practically cold-blooded! Jerry had plenty of body heat, Shade could practically feel it emanating from the man. With the amount Jerry ate, he ought to be giving off excess warmth like a radiator. But Shade could hardly snuggle up to him in the middle of the road. For one thing, Jerry was married, and though Lucy liked him, he didn't think their friendship would survive him having an affair with her husband. For another thing, though Jerry was open-minded, he didn't like to be directly confronted with any kind of PDA. It was some kind of old-fashioned chivalry thing, argued Jerry. Shade just thought he was a total prude. So, swallowing his pride, Shade dug in his jacket pocket for the black gloves he kept in there. They were the leather ones he kept for whenever he worked up the courage to ride the motorbike gathering dust in his garage. Instead, he came out with a pair of pink fluffy mittens.

Shade stared at them in horror for a few moments. They had little white cats dotted over them, and pink satin bows tying at the wrist end. Shade turned slowly to a grinning Jerry who as trying not to laugh. "Maria's going to be pissed that you stole her gloves," Shade observed nonchalantly. Jerry choked and spluttered with mirth, which only intensified as Shade attempted to tug an eight-year-old's gloves onto his long fingered hands. Shade's brow crinkled in concentration as he tried to work them around his bony fingers, as Jerry spluttered uncontrollably beside him. Shade glared at his partner, but in a very friendly way, for him.

"Don't judge me," Shade rebuked, "My fingers are fucking freezing."

Jerry shook his head in a very holier-than-thou way, and Shade bumped him irritably with a shoulder. Jerry laughed again as Shade's shoulder smacked into his upper arm. Shade hated being short. He had been his whole life, and now, surrounded by burly, intimidating men at his work, he felt very inferior. He'd pleaded to Maria to employ at least one other short person, but his request hadn't been granted yet. Shade had a feeling that Maria was actually turning people away _because_ they were short. He wouldn't put it past her, Shade knew from experience that that woman could hold a grudge.

***

Jack stared incredulously at the phone in his hand. He'd been threatened, shot and insulted more times in his long, long life than he could even remember, but somehow he knew that this caller would leave an impression. Never in his life had he been so offended in such a short space of time. The caller had taken four sentences to make the infamously talkative American completely silent. Then he'd hung up. Jack gnawed his lip for a second, and then turned to Gwen, who was doing some technical thing over by the bank of computers. The Welsh woman appeared to feel the Captain's gaze on her, because she looked over her shoulder at Jack, one eyebrow raised questioningly.

Jack cleared his throat. "Gwen, some MI5 people are coming." He decided the best way to recover from his shock was to not try to think too deeply about anything. Gwen's jaw dropped and she replied, "What?" in a whisper. Jack felt much the same. The government had never tried to muscle their way into their territory before, not even when aliens were threatening the Earth. "They want to...help." Jack stumbled over the last word as he recalled the two voices he had heard. He hoped to hell the first was the one in charge. He had been calm and rational, something he expected from an MI5 agent. But the second voice had been harsh and bad-tempered, and didn't seem to like Jack at all.

He tossed the phone irreverently onto the desk beside her. She picked it up and carefully attached it to the main computer to hear back their conversation. Jack winced as it began, his humiliation necessary for Gwen to understand what was going on. "Ianto," he called to the man a little way a way. "You need to hear this."

Ianto made his way over curiously, just in time to hear the phone call.

"_Hello, Jerry O'Shea here."_ Gwen's brow furrowed, and she opened up another screen with a twitch of her hand. "Jerry O'Shea. Ex-Army. Partnered to one...Shade? No last name at all. Jack?" She turned uncertainly to her boss, wondering if Torchwood clearance levels had been lowered in the wake of this children disaster. Jack shushed her impatiently, knowing that the important part was coming up soon. "Fast forward," he said, waving his hand at the computer screen. Gwen sighed and flicked her fingers across the touch screen.

"_Listen to me you fucking American bastard. Me and my partner are coming over right now to your little warehouse, alright? If we get there and you're gone, I will find you, disembowel you and use your guts for streamers at my godson's birthday party next week, alright? Good, I'm glad we understand each other."_

Ianto whistled. "That's bloody impressive."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Thank you for your support."

And that was when Shade kicked the door down.

****

Jerry looked down at his friend's wild face. "Shade, was that necessary? I mean, really?" Shade grinned up at him unashamedly. There was nothing Shade liked more than a fight. He'd kicked the metal door open with one fancy blow, a flying kick that was a particular favourite of his. He'd landed, catlike, and was now grinning around at his 'audience'. Shade liked a bit of drama, he felt it added spice to life. However, in his travels, he'd discovered those who didn't share his view. The gangster mob in Sicily, the mafia boss in Russia, and, of course, politicians everywhere. It seemed he would now add another to this list.

Jack shot him without even realising he'd done it. In his defence, he'd been very shocked when a young man kicked down his door. A woman seated at a bank of computers screamed as Shade spun to the right as the bullet impacted his chest. He crumpled to the floor. Jerry could hear him swearing like a sailor under his breath as he lay there. Jerry nudged his face with one booted foot. "Well, it appears you have killed my colleague." He said pleasantly. Normally, Shade was the snarky one, and he was the controlled, polite one, but they deserved to be unnerved after shooting a...well, unknown thing without warning. "In the army, were you?"

The Captain nodded mutely, apparently in shock. Jerry nodding as if everything was now clear to him. "It was a very good shot." Jack spluttered something, far from his usual composure.

Jerry turned his attention to Shade. In his opinion, his partner was using this opportunity to act childish and show up MI5. It was his twisted sort of revenge for having to take this mission in the first place. Jerry looked down at him, straight in the closed eyes, knowing Shade could read what he was doing straight from his head. "Get up, you lazy son of a bitch." Jerry pulled his leg back to kick Shade in the ribs, but by the time he had any momentum, Shade was gone.

***

Shade cackled as Jerry's leg swung through open air. He laughed harder as the older man overbalanced and fell on his arse. He would have doubled over in normal circumstances, but he was a little occupied right now. The captain gulped as the knife crept closer to his jugular. Never before had he been so aware of the possibility of his very painful death. Being blown up had been softened by adrenaline, and though growing back had hurt like a bitch, the death itself hadn't been so bad. Now, fear was making him tremble.

"Dumbass," said his captor, shaking his head slowly at the irate man. His eyes turned harder, colder, and he tilted back his head so his whispered words travelled straight to Jack's ear. Jack didn't dare struggle, but the slim arms around him felt like concrete. And the way he moved...the guy had reached him within seconds. He hadn't even seen him move, it was that quick. There was no way he was human, and he was no alien Jack had ever seen.

"That hurt, Captain," hissed the dark man, "That hurt a lot. I bet you've been shot before, in the heart and everything. But what I can do to you...it's very painful." Shade stretched to his full height so Jack could feel that the man wasn't breathing. His own breath hitched in a kind of primal fear that he'd never felt before. He'd not been afraid like this for a long time. If they can't kill you, there's only so much stuff they can do. And you'll always outlast them, whatever deluded dreams of immortality they have. But this man holding a gleaming blade against his skin... "Very slow," the man continued, and Jack had to fight not to gasp and bring the knife closer.

"Shade, let the poor man go. You're scaring him."

Oh god, oh god, it was the sensible man! Thank fuck he was here. He seemed to have some semblance of control or at least an understanding with the Psycho, who is apparently called Shade. Appropriate, if a little arrogant.

The knife sliced through his skin, drawing a little line of blood across his neck. Jack did gasp this time. Then the arms left him, and Shade was standing in front of him, an odd look on his face. Jack couldn't help but stare at him. He was attractive in an 'I love, that's why I have to kill you', sort of way. He gasped in relief, breathing deep. He'd realised he'd been holding his breath. Ianto sprinted to his side and grabbed his shoulders. "You idiot," he said in an affectionate way, hugging him hard around the neck. Jack patted his hand almost distractedly, still staring at the psychopath and his bloodstained knife. He felt the familiar tingle of his skin healing over, the blood not even dried on top of it. He realised something, looking at the startling man, with a dark, self-deprecting look on his face. "You don't die." He said, stating it like a fact. And it was a fact, he'd been shot clean through the heart and got up and threatened to slit his throat moments later. "You don't die!" he said again. Just his luck to share eternity with the Doctor and Shade. Fuck, if they ever met...

"And you don't scar, do you, pretty boy?" the man in front of him said in a kind of jealous wonderment. "You have no idea, how lucky you are."

Jack realised he was right. He'd been blown apart and grown back completely flawless. All the times he'd been shot, and all that had been damaged was his clothes. He ducked his head in a weird sort of shame. "You do, then?" he asked, almost mumbling. Ianto nudged him gently with a shoulder. Jack looked at him and Ianto flicked his eyes up, and nudged him again. Jack got the message. He looked up, refusing to feel ashamed for something he could help, to see that Shade had tilted his head back and walked a few paces closer. From this distance, he could see the pale lines criss-crossing the man's pale skin. The neck was crossed four times at different angles. "How do you think I knew how much it hurt, pretty boy?" Shade said, laughing harshly. Then he turned away and skipped gaily back to Jerry, who ruffled his hair in a fatherly way, though Shade batted away his hand impatiently.

"I was shot." He said.

"Yes?" Jerry asked, raising an eyebrow benignly.

"So we can go home?"

"Shade, when have we ever gone home just because you were shot?"

"Peru?" Shade said hopefully.

"We left then because they cut your arms off. Not because you got shot, you wuss."

"Whatever, can we go home?" Shade said flippantly, while Jack's head filled with images of Shade screaming and thrashing in pain. It was weird, he just couldn't imagine anybody who could hold him down long enough.

"No." Jerry responded, flatly.

Shade pouted and crossed his arms. Jack raised an eyebrow to see a grown freak sulking like Steven used to years ago, before he grew out of it. It was surreal.

"Right," the older man said. "I'll leave you to it, shall I?"

Shade's eyes narrowed dangerously. "What do you mean, old man?"

Jerry was backing out the door quickly, Shade watching suspiciously, like a cat watches a mouse it is not sure it wants to catch. "I'm not old!" Jerry said quickly, before he made a run for it, slipping out of the door and slamming it. Shade launched himself at the door. "Jerry, you fucker, let me out! Don't leave me here! Seriously, Jerry!"

They could hear the sound of muffled laughter and the thunk of a deadbolt sliding into place. Shade screamed in anger and frustration. He didn't want to be here. He did _not _want to be here, with another immortal, his boyfriend and their female sidekick. They were like the fucking Welsh counterparts of him and Draco and Hermione. He couldn't handle it.

He kicked and hit at the huge metal doors, denting them but not breaking them. He stopped only when the skin on his knuckles spilt and blood made his hands tacky. He stood, breathing heavily for a few moments. He'd been locked in, and if Maria was smart, she wouldn't let him out. Because if she did, he was going back to Korea, nuclear threat or not. He'd had concert tickets, and he was sure that Big Bang hadn't actually performed yet...

He whirled to face the Torchwood team, who all looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Right. I know about this whole 456 threat. In fact, my godson has been having these seizures the past few days, and his parents are going to eat me if I fail at this." He caught a smile creeping at Jack's lips. Oh, yes, the grandson. He returned the expression, his grin razor sharp. "Oh, you think I'm joking. Ever met an angry werewolf, Captain Harkness?" Jack shook his head. "You're lucky. They're persistent little bastards."

Jack coughed, and raised a hand in a schoolboy gesture he hadn't even realised he remembered. He quickly lowered it, but it was too late. Shade had caught it and smiled a smile like a satisfied crocodile. He pointed extravagantly at Jack. "Yes, Mr. Harkness. Did you have something to say to the whole class?" Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the other two team members biting their lips to stop themselves from laughing.

"I did, as a matter of fact." Jack said through gritted teeth, glaring at the others.

"Oh?" Shade asked, rocking back on his heels.

"Yeah. Why is it you want to leave so bad? I mean, I get it, you hate Torchwood. But why?"

Shade became a little more serious. "Tosh worked here, remember?" Ianto glanced down, face filled with remembered grief and pain. "She was my friend. My sensei's granddaughter. I told her not to come here, but she accepted the offer. She killed for Torchwood, and Torchwood killed her. And, undoubtedly, it will try to kill me as well, at least once. Jerry knew this, and he used it against me. I guess he thought it was a good connection." He shrugged like a tree in the breeze: disconnected but graceful. "He was wrong."

Shade put out a quick scan while they were distracted by memories of their co-worker. Gwen, Ianto, Jack. First name terms were the only things he worked with. That was why he called his boss Maria, though his life would have been easier otherwise. In his experience, people put too much stock by family names. Going to war over it, even. Well, he thought, going as deep as he could without being detected with a telltale headache. "I know your files," he lied. "So here's a bit about me. Call me Shade. None of this Mr. or Agent crap. I use knives and swords over guns, but I can use a firearm if pressed. As you know, I don't die. I'm stronger than you, faster than you, and I can guarantee I am better than you at anything except computers." He considered for a moment. "And perhaps gardening." He flapped a hand. "Anyway.

"You" he pointed at Jack. "Stop picturing me naked. You're getting it all wrong." Jack had the good grace to look abashed, though Ianto didn't look all too surprised. A reputation, then. Have to watch him. He was trying very hard not to cheat on his boyfriend, but he was immortal, not immune to dashing army men.

"You," he continued, pointing at Gwen. "If you leave here unless something is trying to kill you, I will not be pleased. Can't have pregnant women running around shooting people." Gwen gaped at him. "How did you-" Shade cut her off by talking over her, which he found was more effective than any hand gesture. "Here." He fished in the pockets of his pockets and pulled out a sleek black mobile phone. He threw it at her, gently. She caught it two-handed, and looked at it bemusedly. "I don't know my number off by heart. It's on there, under 'Me'." She nodded, and began pressing buttons.

Shade turned to Ianto, who looked decidedly nervous, especially when Shade frowned. "You." Shade frowned deeper. "I like you," he said, saying the words like he couldn't quite believe them. "Though you could probably do better than Jack over there. And also, you're taller than me. You're actually a short person, who is taller than me."

The disgruntled look on his face made him look so human that Gwen spoke to him the same way she spoke to her other colleagues. "He's taller than me as well." She was rewarded for her boldness with a rakish smile that practically made her blush. "Well, good for us short people. We will someday rule the world." He noticed the spots of colour on her cheeks and repeated a sentence he'd said so many times. "Sorry sweetheart, I would, but I have a boyfriend." Gwen gave a rueful smile and made a woe-is-me gesture, and Shade winked at her, confirming that he too was only joking around. Jack turned to the younger man, a hint of something in his eyes. "Boyfriend?"

Shade winked at him as well. "Yeah dollface, couldn't you tell?"

Ianto whacked Jack on the shoulder. Jack gave him a 'only kidding' smile. Shade cast around the large empty-looking warehouse. "Have you got any coffee?"

"Yes, of course," Ianto said, making a move to the 'kitchen', which consisted of a few cracked mugs from Ikea and a coffee machine from Gwen's house which she'd brought here to keep her going. Shade waved him off.

"Don't be stupid," he said, walking smoothly to the 'kitchen'. "I'll get it."

"No, it's okay, I'm the 'tea boy'," Ianto said, with a self-deprecating twist of his mouth.

The look reminded Shade painfully of Remus after Teddy was born. He didn't trust himself. After Teddy's first full moon, when it became apparent that he had indeed inherited werewolf traits, Remus had tried to kill himself. Shade had found him in the family bathroom, bleeding from the wrists. It had taken a lot of control for him to heal up the man and not just drain him, especially with Remus encouraging him the whole time, with that same expression on his face.

"_Go on, _Shade_, do it. I know you want to, I can smell it. Like I can smell your fear. Like I can smell Teddy. Like he will be able to smell me, after what I've done to him." That smile, the knowing smile that made Shade's gut turn, and the accusation attatched to his name._

"_Shut up Remus. You're not going to die."_

"_I hope so," Remus said fiercely. "I hope so. I hope-"_

"_Don't be stupid. Teddy needs his father!"_

"_Not if that father is me," Remus snarled, raging against Shades arms, Shade who was pinning him to the bathroom floor with his bodyweight and bandaging his arms with strips torn from his shirt. It would be more productive for him to take the man downstairs and get a witch to use healing spells on him. But only Tonks was in the house, and she couldn't know what her husband had tried to do._

"_Please kill me," sobbed Remus, thrashing still._

"_Shut up!" growled Shade. _

"_You don't understand!" wailed Shade's surrogate father. "I've ruined his life!"_

Shade turned to Ianto and met his eyes, feeling the shockwaves of surprise in Ianto's brain at their colour and the fierce emotion behind them. "Like I said," Shade said gruffly. "Don't be stupid."

"_Like I said," Shade said, finally stopping the bleeding as Remus collapsed on the bathroom floor, crying in frustration, trying to reach his wrists again and rip off the makeshift bandages. "Don't be stupid."_


	3. Chapter 3

Shade blew on his coffee, which was still steaming hot. He didn't mind the lack of milk, he was always too lazy to add anything to his coffee anyway. Jerry, of course, was told that he took his coffee black because he was a 'real man'. To which Jerry always chanted 'I'm a real boy!' in an annoying Pinocchio voice. Despite all the annoyances and the teasing, Shade was already beginning to miss his partner. He'd never taken a solo mission since he was paired with the man nearly two years ago, and he kept turning to open air with a sarcastic comment on his tongue.

Shade took a gulp of coffee and shook his head rapidly as the hot water scalded his tongue. "Shit!" he spluttered, to Jack's amusement. Shade contemplated throwing the coffee at him, but decided he couldn't be arsed to go and get another one. The young man curled his legs under him as he sat on the concrete floor, leaning back against Gwen's chair. He could read from her mind that it bothered her that he, prickly, sensitive, scary man that he was had chosen this position, but if he was frank, then he didn't particularly care. She was the one in this room least likely to try and kill him, so here he would sit.

"Right, Jacko," he said, slurping his coffee before continuing. "What's the plan? I don't do daylight, so tell me what we're going to do next, and then I am going to fall asleep on that charming little sofa over there." Shade waved a hand at the cream furniture. Jack looked at him suspiciously. Shade could hear the gears whirring in his head, then grinding to a halt. He frowned a little, before crowing delightedly: "You have _no_ idea what I am, do you?"

Jack scowled at the young man. "I can bet you don't know what _I _am."

Shade shrugged. "That's only because you don't have a proper species, whereas I do."

Shade took particular pleasure in reminding the Captain just how different he really was. He at least had his clan, and a semi-family. Jack had nobody to share eternity with, other than a bunch of Shade's kind, who would never accept him fully. Jack looked torn between anger and acceptance. He knew how shit his life had ended up.

"Hey," Shade said, feeling a twinge of guilt. "At least you remember how it happened to you."

Jack's curiosity overrode his more sensible impulses, most of which featured Shade's head on a spike, immortal or not. "And you don't?"

Shade shrugged. "I know how it's supposed to happen. I've done it myself, once. I just don't remember being turned."

Gwen spun round on her chair, sending Shade crashing backward as his support fell from under him, head cracking against the concrete. "Jesus, woman!" Shade howled, clutching the back of his head. The flare of pain rescinded as he cursed, the fractured skull knitting back together in seconds. "Sorry," Gwen said briskly, before saying curiously, "Turned into what?" It must have been the wording, but Ianto suddenly gasped, and Shade grinned at the pictures flashing through the Welshman's mind. Fragments of memory about Shade, combined with the worst scenes of Dracula and Twilight. Shade made a face at him. "You _watched_ that movie?" he asked incredulously. "It was so inaccurate. I do not _sparkle_." Shade spat out the word. He hated this presumption that his aversion to sunlight was over something so trivial. He avoided it because it burned like a laser beam, and would fry his retinas if it ever shined directly on his face. Plus, he was nocturnal. By all rights, he should be asleep right now, not explaining himself. But he really was enjoying this far too much to stop. "Ooh, look, Ianto knows!" He said happily, waving a little at the Welshman. "Would you like a prize?" Ianto shook his head, looking vaguely horrified. Shade nodded sharply in amused approval. "Smart boy. You two still clueless?" The others nodded, foreheads crinkled in deep thought. Shade watched with interest as alien images flashed through Jack's mind. He took great pleasure in commenting on them, which unsettled Jack. "No, no, wait, that one's sort of close, too ugly, no, no...Give up Jack, you'll never get it," he sang, knowing his tone would make the Captain more determined to find out.

"Are you some sort of alien?" Jack asked, the hope in his voice laughable. He knew that if Shade wasn't, he was out of his depth.

"No."

"So you're from Earth?"

"Yes."

"Could you be more descriptive?"

"No, and this isn't twenty questions Jacko. Just watch and learn."

Shade sighed and got up, walking languidly to a place where they could both see him. He smiled toothily, fangs glinting as they slipped over his lower lip, though they didn't extend very far over it. He concentrated, hearing the blood rushing through the humans' veins. Jack's heart especially was beating fast, as he began to realise. Shade breathed in deeply through his nose, and scents he hadn't yet sampled rushed in. He didn't notice the musty smell of the old factory, or the metallic tang of the computer system. It was all overpowered by the scent of _humans_. The double heartbeat of Gwen and her growing baby. And Jack's blood, rich and sweet and never-ending. His entire life was stored in his blood, making it as strong as the Elder's, but without the sour taste that came with the blood of his kind. Shade stumbled as he felt his eyes grow red with bloodlust. Okay, no more breathing around Jack. His mouth clicked shut as he cut off his breath, feeling oddly disadvantaged without his sense of smell, but much more clearheaded.

"I'm a vampire, see?"

Gwen was currently trying to wheel her chair back. Shade looked at her scornfully. There was always one whose attitude changed when they learned what he was. It was understandable, but annoying.

"Don't flatter yourself," Shade snapped. "Your blood is boring. O type?" When she nodded, Shade turned to Jack, who looked perturbed but also a bit amused.

"You, on the other hand..." Shade licked his lips, enjoying the way the fear levels in the room ramped up a notch. "Very tasty. Congratulations, you win a prize. And wipe that smug look off your face. You're just lucky I wasn't breathing when you bled earlier. Don't bleed near me, okay? Even if you're dying and I'm the only one with a phone to call 999, fuck off and call an ambulance yourself."

Jack rolled his eyes. Despite only knowing the man for three hours, the remark was so reminiscent of their 'conversation' on the phone, that it put him at ease. Never before had somebody acting aggressive put him at ease. It was beginning to look like Shade was too complex for him to ever rationalise. It was probably best to just go with the flow.

"Now, Jacko, what's the plan?"

"Well," Jack said, putting on his most authoritative voice. "At some point, we will meet with the 456."

"Fucking fabulous," Shade snorted.

"I have a feeling you're not respecting my authority," Jack said, a warning edge in his voice.

"Follow your gut feelings," advised Shade not-so-cryptically, before taking a flying leap onto the sofa and turning his back to Torchwood. "Good...day."

Shade was asleep in moments. He didn't feel Jack reluctantly adjust his cushion so he wouldn't wake up, or hear Gwen and Ianto searching for something to cover him with, and failing.

***

When Shade woke up, his eyesight was bleary and he felt much better. He blinked a few times and the blur of sleep fell away. Still, he couldn't see anybody. Fucking bastards had gone and left him. And the pregnant woman wasn't here. Shade's eyes narrowed. He was perfectly accepting that women could do anything men could do, and they could do it in high heels. But pregnant women were very vulnerable, no matter how far along they were. Shade fumbled in his pocket for his phone and began looking through his contacts hopefully. He smiled when he noticed that Gwen had added not only her own number, but those of Jack and Ianto's as well. Clever girl. He was allowed to say that because he was approximately only two years younger and infinitely more interesting.

He pressed the call button irritably, fully intending to find her and bring her back. And then never let her leave again. He breathed out irritably, more like he was trying to imitate an angry bull than a sigh. He caught a scent, peppermint and corduroy and talcum powder. His head whipped to the man in the corner. He had a soft spot for old people, after all Dumbledore had been old, and he'd tried to manipulate him and he'd nearly died because of it. He was a fucking _genius_.

"Old man," he said neutrally, feeling odd as the guy's eyes met his with trepidation. "Stay here, don't fall over, don't touch anything even slightly technological."

With that, he pressed the green button and waited, pacing angrily.

***

Gwen was demonstrating the contact lenses to Lois when her phone rang. She excused herself, though Lois was faltering and about to leave. You never knew when a call was important. She glanced down at the caller ID screen and cursed under her breath. Shade was going to rip her to pieces over Clem, who she'd left in their base. She thought he'd sleep longer, at least until sundown, but she was mistaken, obviously.

"Sorry, I have to take this," she said, realising her face gave away her emotion about the call. Lois nodded stiffly, still uncertain about her position.

"Hello?" Gwen asked warily, and was greeted by a wall of anger.

"You! I _told_ you to stay! I fucking _told_ you! I can't believe you went out! You could be shot! Or stabbed!"

"Shade, calm down. I'm sitting in a cafe, not in the middle of a war zone."

"Fuck that! Where are you? I _will_ find you!"

Gwen sighed and gave him the address and directions, then hung up. "I apologise," she told Lois, who had been able to hear Shade's every word due to his volume. To her surprise, she was fighting a sort of smile. "Is that your husband or something?"

Gwen laughed. "No, no. Just a colleague. Apparently, he's very protective." Gwen was surprised herself. She had been expecting a bollocking for leaving Clem there, instead she got frantic concern. She wondered if he had a pregnant friend. Men who acted like that normally did.

"Does he do that every time you leave your work?" Lois interrupted her thoughts.

"No, I'm...sort of pregnant," she said reluctantly. Lois' eyes widened comically, but before she could open her mouth, the door to the cafe swung open. Shade stood in the doorway, seething.

"There you are!" he said, stalking over to their booth. "Budge over." Gwen obligingly scooted closer to the wall as the vampire boy slid in next to her.

"Why didn't you wake me up if you wanted something done?" he asked, the question remarkably civil and expletive-free.

"Because you looked like you needed the sleep."

Shade's mouth worked, but the words wouldn't seem to come. Nobody had said that to him in a long time. It was too weird. It brought up memories he cherished but hated as well. Not fun in public.

"Fine," he said at last, voice gruff. "Who's this?"

"This is Lois. I'm hoping to get her to help us with this situation. She appears to be uncomfortable with it."

"Ah." Shade leaned forwards slightly, resting his forearms on the table. "You are government, correct, Lois?" The girl nodded, looking a little afraid, though it was clouded with uncertainty. "So am I. MI5. I'm on loan to Torchwood because they can't handle this situation themselves. My superiors would very much like to know what their superiors are saying to the 456. I'm not going to threaten you, Lois, because you're a nice girl, you'll do the right thing anyway, without much persuasion. But one of my colleagues had a bomb planted in his liver two days ago, so forgive me if Frobisher isn't my best friend right now."

Shade leaned back and held out a hand to Gwen. She dropped the contact lenses into his palm without comment. Shade tossed them lightly to Lois. She caught them deftly, which made raise an eyebrow. "Good catch. Put them in whenever. Actually, no, give me a few minutes to get back and work out the computer."

Gwen kicked his ankle. "Don't touch the computer," she warned.

Gwen had her doubts when Shade began to speak, but what he said was so different to what she had expected that she was forced into confusion. Again.

***

Shade was only beginning to drop off to sleep when a gunshot rang out in the warehouse for the second time that day. He jerked upright and breathed in. Jack's blood had been spilt, and his fangs extended of their own accord. He bit his lip, hard, and the pain kept him from jumping the man right then. Instead, he focused on more productive scents, like the trace of gunpowder that would lead him to the shooter. The grey trail hung in the air like a smoker's breath, and Shade headed in its direction without the need to actually think about it. In MI5, his job had been to break necks first, get identity later. That was why he'd been partnered to Jerry: put him and some of the other psychos in the department together, and you'd have rogue agents on your hands faster than you could blink.

In Torchwood, he'd have to keep himself in check.

So when he apprehended the culprit, he wrapped one hand gently around the waist, and jabbed his thumb into the old man's wrist. The gun clattered to the floor, and that arm moved to encircle his neck. There was no pressure, but Shade could crack the vertebrae neatly in a single twist. The old man's harsh breathing, almost sobs, told him that there had been no malice in the shot, that there had been some sort of shock involved. Shade looked up from his captive to meet his temporary boss's eyes. Jack was sprawled on the floor, Ianto holding onto him protectively. The old man in his grasp screamed as what he thought was a corpse began to get up and breathe again.

"Hush," Shade soothed him, using the voice he'd heard a certain friend of his use on dangerous creatures. The old man was muttering under his breath, and with his hypersensitive ears, Shade could hear everything. They made a strange picture: the dark vampire, only a little taller than the old man that his lithe arms held in a lethal embrace, trying to calm him as best he could. Shade lowered the man the floor, propping him up against a desk. As much as he was fond of him, and pitied him, he had bigger things to deal with. As a last precaution, he kicked the gun a little further away.

"When he says," Shade said in a deceptively calm voice, anger making him clench his fists. He was going to do nothing, though, until he heard Jack's reasons. "That you were 'there the first time', Jack, what does that mean?"

Shade watched with cold, sinking satisfaction as realisation dawned in Jack's eyes. "I..."

"You had better deny _right_ _now_ that you were involved in this pretty boy, or so help me I will drag you to Hell myself!" Red eyes, black hair and pale skin made for a frightening combination, and Shade could see Jack's throat worked as he gulped.

Silence.

"You mean to tell me that you gave children over to aliens?" Shade's voice was very quiet, but he knew Jack and the rest of the team would pick up every word. Gwen gasped softly, but her mind wasn't so surprised. Shade supposed there'd been some sort of dialogue while he was still passed out on the sofa.

"They said they wouldn't harm them. They promised!" Jack's voice gained strength as he shook off Ianto and stood.

"And you fucking believed them! Are you mentally capable of anything?" Shade screamed.

"Of course I didn't believe them! My superiors were sure, not me!"

"And you did as you were told." Shade laughed, an awful sound filled with cynicism. He didn't know whether to pity Jack or to hate him.

"I did as I was ordered." Jack said quietly.

Shade crossed the space between them quicker than humanly possible, and Jack was pinned by the throat to the wall before he could grasp what was happening.

"Say that again. Say that again, I FUCKING DARE YOU!" Shade hissed into Jack's face, closing the gap between them so that they were almost nose-to-nose.

"Shade!" Ianto yelled, though it was more of a frantic yelp than anything else. His worried voice pierced through his fog of anger, and Shade unclosed his fingers from around Jack's throat in disgust. He walked deliberately slowly to the metal double doors, and though he knew they were inaccessible to him, barred from the outside, he punched the metal anyway, losing a little of the anger that had built up in his chest. "Fucking doors!" he spat, not enjoying the flinches he felt through the room.

He fumbled a hand in a pocket, fingers slipping over the cool plastic of his mobile phone. MI5 or not, he was getting out of here. Fingertips shaking as the adrenaline left his body, he tapped keys in his contacts list viciously until he reached the one man he knew would bust him out of this motherfucking warehouse.

"Mikki? I need you to get your sorry arse down to Cardiff. Oh, not much, just knock down a door. Yeah sure, bring Keeran if you want. Fuck it, bring the whole coven.

We'll have a nice little family reunion."


	4. Chapter 4

Shade's coven had found him at a very difficult crossroads in his life. Well, not so much a crossroads, just as a choice between a rock and a hard place wasn't a choice at all. And they didn't exactly _find_ him, they were presented with him by the vampire council: The exceptional, eccentric, eclectic Lucas Grimm the only vampire trusted enough and insane enough to take on the care of the world's only current wizard-vampire.

Most vampires were muggles, or Born. Lucas, or Luke as he insisted everybody call him, was originally a muggle, in the court of Queen Elizabeth. He'd been Turned in the gutters of London, and had spent the first 200 years becoming the biggest thorn in the Council's side there was possible to be. Not only did he point-blank refuse to join a coven (he started his own instead), he stubbornly mated with a non vampire. Human matings were tolerated, as they never lasted, but to mate with a werewolf...and not even a regular, run-of-the-mill, common or garden werewolf either. The Princess, the soon-to-be Queen. Lorcan O'Donnell. She, like her newfound mate, would never age. Royal werewolves aged at the same rate as their mate.

Despite all the controversy surrounding Lucas, he and Lorcan would take on any fledgling, and soon built up a coven of the most unstable, untrustworthy, and possibly the least likely to conform to social norms vampires they could find. After Raphael, a Spanish pirate who never drained his victims, but never Turned them either (uncommon in vampire circles), and also nearly executed the Head of the Council as a 'joke', the Council took to sending 'troubled' fledglings to the mated couple.

Shade definitely fell under this category.

The Council didn't often come across fledglings who needed the couple's special guidance, and before Shade there was only Raphael, Aleksandr and Mikhail, Keeran and Alexia. Lex was the newest addition, and she came along months before Shade, and the two naturally bonded. Shade hated Keeran at first, but later warmed to him, especially as Mikki, his lifemate, was Shade's best friend. They got on like a house on fire, explosive, colourful, and overall, dangerous. Aleks, Shade never found as interesting, but as the sweet 'brother-in-law' (Lex was his unofficial adopted sister), he did just fine. Lorcan kept all of them in line with the ease of long practice, Luke was the absent but much-loved father, and Raphael was the crazy uncle they would all prefer to just stay in the basement where he belonged.

Shade hadn't seen this darling pseudo-family of his in far too long: before Torchwood came Czechoslovakia, before that Iraq, and before that North Korea. In the last year, he'd only had very short meetings with them. Understandably, part of his calling them had to do with just wanting to see them. The other part, the part fuelled by his burning righteous anger, was that if he had to stay in the same room as Captain Jack Harkness for another minute, he was going to kill him.

Luckily for Jack, vampires run very fast.

Shade fumbled awkwardly with his phone as it rang, and he didn't even need to look at the caller ID to know how it was. Psychic vampire perk. But he did, because the sight of Lex's tongue sticking out at him playfully while her blonde hair whipped in the wind made him smile. He pressed the little green button below the screen with vampiric presicion, and held the phone to his ear. "Hello Lex darling," he said, in a more pleasant tone of voice than any human bar one had ever heard.

"Shade," the breath of happiness made Shade want to hug her. He was her big brother and he missed her so much it hurt. Only, he hadn't realised it until now. And now he just wanted to see them all. But then there was that damned protection mechanism, and the damn humans who wouldn't understand the bond he had with his coven at all. So all he said was,

"Tell me they're all with you."

"We're here Shay. We missed you too, you know." Shade felt that stomach-clenching rush of relief. Nobody had been killed, nobody injured, and they were all coming to meet him. Fuck, he'd missed them.

"I know." Shade bit his lip indecisively, wondering whether his standing as the cold, nasty little fucker among these people was worth not being able to say three little words to his sister, which he knew the others would hear because of their vampiric hearing. Shade would have liked, in a perfect world, to have never have to take this phone call. He didn't want to hate Jack, and in the small slice of his brain where logic reigned supreme, he knew that Raph, Mikki, heck, even _he_ had done worse things. He'd killed people, and he'd forced them into eternal life they didn't want. But not to children, raged the other part of him. Never _children_.

Shade gathered his composure, threw caution to the wind and said clearly, "I love you." Then he snapped the phone shut before she could laugh at him. Because she would laugh at him, the bitch. Shade glared around the room, daring any of them to say anything. Then, "That was my sister," he confessed, feeling he had to justify it somehow. People didn't just say that to random women on the phone, and they might think he was lying about having a boyfriend, and one lie was always assumed to lead to others, and if trust broke down...

"I have a sister," Ianto's voice was small, but rising. "What's her name?"

"Lex, as you heard on the phone," Shade said, in a voice so curt, it told Torchwood that they had not been forgiven, and now was not the time to talk to him as if the whole thing had blown over. Shade wanted to add 'fuckwit' to that sentence, but somehow it was harder, with Ianto. The man was just so damn...nice. Fucking Remus-clone.

Shade didn't even hear them approach, he was so wrapped up in guilt about Ianto flinching whenever he met his eyes, and Jack eyeing him warily. There was a crunch of metal on metal, a confused sounded scuffle, several thumps, and then a dark shape slipped through the small, new gap in the iron doors, and made a beeline for Jack.

_Fuck_ thought Shade. _Fuck, fuck, fuck-a-doodle fuckity FUCK!_ He'd forgot about Raph. The Spaniard wasn't picky in what he ate under normal circumstances, but in a room filled with the scent of Jack's blood, well, they might as well have paid a guy to call him Mexican and then set the vampire on him. Shade felt that fear jolt into his stomach, and his feet started moving before he told them to, carrying him at a speed too fast to comprehend. Adrenaline sharpened his gaze, and he saw one fang slice neatly into the skin at the base of Jack's neck, felt the flood of bloodlust, heard the sharp, shocked intake of breath.

And then Shade hit Raph with the force of a freight train, the white fang was torn from its prey, glistening with blood still, and the two vampires dented the concrete floor as the landed. Shade was faster, and he pinned Raph's forearms and snarled into his face, wordless, timeless vampire dominance seeping through his every pore. Shade might have been a cocky bastard, but the only reason for that was his natural tendency towards being in charge, being the dominant. And being the dominant one meant he fought for people under his protection, even if he himself wanted to tear their fucking throat out.

Shade could smell the human fear in the room, but he ignored it in favour of dodging Raph's headbutt to his nose. Shade snarled again, an animal, guttural sound that had Raph shrinking back slightly, the fierce crimson of his iris receding slightly, the familiar chocolate brown returning. Shade gasped a sigh of relief when the older vampire jabbed him none too gently in the ribs and laughed. "Off, _chico._ I won't eat your little soldier boy," Raph said, voice ringing with dark humour. Shade laughed slightly in relief, and rolled sideways off him.

"Good," he muttered. "I don't think he needs any more psychological damage." Shade clambered up, and brushed concrete dust of his clothes. Grey stuff got bloody _everywhere_. This was one of the reasons he disliked wearing black, no matter how well it soaked up bloodstains. Get a little bit of sugar, or concrete dust, on it, and it never left.

"Hey, shortarse," drawled a voice from the doorway. Shade didn't even have to turn around to know Mikki had arrived. The slight Russian accent gave it away.

"Hey manwhore," he replied, turning to grin at the man. Mikki smiled back, and Keeran, standing next to the Russian vampire with his arms folded, gave a small, welcoming smile. Shade looked him up and down. He hadn't seen Keeran in a while, his career kept him in Ireland often, and with Shade's keeping him globetrotting, their paths rarely crossed. But Shade approved of Keeran as Mikki's lifemate (not that Mikki would have left Keeran if Shade hadn't, but the sentiment made coven life easier), and so he stepped forward and grasped the other vampire's forearm in a gesture of respect and affection, ruined when he said:

"Your trenchcoat makes you look like an emo."

Luckily, Keeran snorted at the deadpan humour. "At least I eat. I can practically see you salivating, Shay."

Shade scowled. Yes, _maybe_ he'd neglected his blood needs lately. And possibly his sleep needs too. 3 weeks was a little long, even for a vampire. No wonder Sun was being such a bitch. Like a human, Shade needed to eat and sleep to function. Technically, he could go about two months without sleep before literally keeling over. Vampires had to make a conscious decision to shut their brain down for the day, which Shade had done for maybe a few hours in the last 3 weeks. Blood, though, he had to have more regularly. Maybe every fortnight or so. He was nearing the end of his tether. The Sun was bearable if you fed often and wore specially-made sunglasses (some Greek vamp was making a _fortune_ out of said glasses), which Shade kept on him at all times. But it had been painful lately, to be in direct sunlight.

"Only you use words like 'salivating' now Keeran," muttered Shade obstinately. "It's not the 20s anymore."

Keeran did not acknowledge that with a reply.

"Luckily," said a more amused, less confrontational Russian voice said, "I have some in my satchel. Really, Shay, what would you do without me?"

Shade licked his lips in anticipation. Like anything, he hadn't realised quite how much he wanted it until it was nearly it his grasp. He'd been a good boy, not feeding off the Captain, and not eating anybody on the way over. Not even a few Czech terrorists nobody would miss. Shade swallowed audibly, and he heard a few unhappy mutterings from the Torchwood team.

"Aleks," he said solemnly. "Marry me."

The laugh was loud and friendly, and it was combined with a lightning-fast movement, untrackable by human eyes. Then a plastic baggie of blood sailed through the air to smack Shade in the chest. Shade grabbed it before it could fall to the floor. He eyed the red liquid for a moment before deciding manners be damned, he was hungry. He felt the familiar burn in his gums as his fangs extended, gleaming in the artificial light. He knew his eyes were red, and without further ado, he lifted the bag to face level and sliced it open with one neat flick of his head, one fang slicing tidily through the thick plastic. The blood bubbled at the jagged slit, and Shade quickly clamped his lips over the hole and gulped it down.

His eyes were closed in pleasure as he drank the refrigerated blood. It was odd to drink it cold, but it wasn't like they didn't have a whole fridge stocked with emergency blood at home, and Shade had drunk it cold before. It was like cold tea or flat coke, it didn't taste quite how you imagined it when you were craving it, but it was good enough to tide you over. He felt some escape out the side of his mouth and slide cold over his jawbone. He didn't want to risk flicking his tongue out to catch it and spilling any on the floor (that would look bad), and the thought of stopping physically repulsed him.

When the bag was sucked mostly dry, Shade removed it from his lips, and swiped a finger along the little trail of blood that was nearly at his neck now, leaving a telltale crimson smudge. Licking his finger, he tossed the bag back to Aleks, who dutifully put it back in his satchel.

A tall, willowy woman dressed in a blouse and a nice pair of jeans smiled parentally at the young vampire. "Shay, could you introduce us?" she said in a kind, motherly voice.

Shade turned back to the Torchwood team, fury sated by blood and the closeness of his coven. Indicating each member of his coven with a flick of a bloodstained finger.

"Alexia, Aleksandr, Mikhail, Keeran, Lucas, Raphael, and Lorcan. My coven." Each member greeted the team in a range of gestures, from a polite nod of the head, a gleaming smile, and a bare-fanged snarl. Raph was obviously not quite over losing his tasty military snack. Speaking of which, Shade glanced at Jack, who's throat was still bleeding a tiny trail of blood from that little nick Raph's fang had made in his neck before Shade had barrelled into him. Shade tugged his bottom lip between his teeth, the slight pain helping him _think_. This man had given over children to a pack of aliens, but Shade didn't know what his mental state had been at the time. Lorcan, he knew, had killed a human while in her wolf form, and had not been prosecuted, on grounds of mental instability at the time of the attack. She was still torn up about it sometimes, and for all Shade knew, Jack could be exactly the same.

With a huffed sigh, Shade crossed the room swiftly to Jack, moving too fast for the man to back away. He licked the tip of his finger quickly, and wiped it across the messy incision. It probably would have been less painful if the angle hadn't been spoiled by the tackle, but that same tackle had stopped the man being drained by a vampire. Jack might be immortal, but having your body be slowly drained of blood was not a pleasant experience. Jack jerked back instinctively as the wet, cool finger touched his skin, but relaxed as he felt the wound tighten and close.

"Vampire saliva has healing properties," Shade explained quickly, before he could ask. "Are you alright?" There was genuine concern in his eyes if Jack had cared to look.

"What's it to you?" the older man snapped.

Shade's eyes closed off like a steel shutter had come down over his face.

"I just don't want to fill in the _fucking_ paperwork if you got drained," Shade spat, lips parting in a familiar snarling motion. Their eyes locked for a fleeting moment, and Shade shamelessly sent his mind into Jack's, probing for guilt, sorrow, regret. Surely, somewhere, Jack was sorry for what he'd done to those children. Jack's hand flew to his forehead as Shade slipped into his deepest feelings, finding a churning pit of confusion, anger and an overwhelming guilt. Shade didn't dare follow the gut-wrenching feeling to its source: he was not in the calm, stable mood needed to dance through a man's memories, and he didn't want to snap the Captain's mind. He withdrew his presence, leaving Jack with only a niggling headache to remember him by.

Satisfied, he grinned. "You call me when you storm the 456, Jacko. I'd hate to be left out."

With those words, he trotted back to his family, asking, "Does anybody have the keys to the Cardiff flat? I know we have one."

There were several mutters, and then a glinting, jingling object sailed into Shade's open palm. Shade checked the address on the key ring, sneakily stole a mental map of Cardiff from Gwen a little way away, and thanked the small family as a whole. He'd have preferred more time with them, but he sadly had a job to do. Once this was all wrapped up, he'd go and see them for real. A proper visit, hopefully with Lorcan's cooking. And he could find Draco, wherever the young man was. He'd said he needed some time to adjust, and Shade had given him his space. But it was time to find him, and sort this whole thing out. He didn't regret what he'd done, but he wasn't sure Draco felt the same.

There was a breeze, and then the vampires were gone, the door swinging shut behind them.


	5. Chapter 5

Overall, Shade was just glad to be in the shower.

Contrary to popular opinion, vampires were not perfect. One, they needed to sleep. They didn't have to live in coffins for half their lives and only come out at night, but over the centuries, it became tradition to sleep in the day, and be more active at night. Partly because prey was more drunk and less aware at night, but mostly because vampires had highly sensitive skin. It burned on contact with several substances, including holy water, garlic and, surprisingly, diamonds. But the two most harmful substances to your average vampire were UV rays and silver. Shade himself had had the misfortunate to come in contact with vampire hunters, and they used stakes, tipped with silver to make the passage through hard vampire bodies easier. Vampires could normally be killed by things they couldn't heal, such as decapitation, or being staked through the heart. Shade had been shot in the heart once, and that had been the closest he'd ever come to dying. Luckily, the wound was small, and his body healed it up and forced out the bullet.

Also, while vampires didn't sweat, they didn't have some sort of magical dirt-removing skin. Movies always portrayed them as unblemished, which wasn't true. Vampires scarred, and several unfortunate teenage vampires had permanent acne, thanks to the time-freezing effect of the turning. But they didn't repel mud or blood, or anything. Shade had washed the blood off his chest the second he stepped into the shower: he'd forgotten he'd been shot in the chest. The scarring was minimal, hardly even noticeable among the other bullet holes peppering his pale torso, and the long scars that marked were his arms had been surgically removed in Peru. That had _not_ been a pleasant experience. Shade sighed and tipped back his head to let the hot water stream through his hair. It wasn't greasy, but it was matted with blood near the back, and was pretty dusty. He'd already done the obligatory soaping up, and now he was just easing some aching muscles.

Shade sighed when he heard his phone rang from the living room. He would have killed the population of Wales for five more minutes under the heavenly water, surrounded by the scent of Lex's papaya shampoo, which she'd left for him. All of them left bits and bobs behind in the different apartments around the world. Shade had personally abandoned his second-best pair of shades in the Edinburgh place, knowing Aleks would eventually go up there, assume it would be raining, and not bring his. It happened every year at the Edinburgh Festival, and the Russian vampire was always bashfully grateful afterwards. The phone kept beeping in possibly the most annoying way possible. Mikki had been fiddling with it again.

Shade groaned and stepped out of the shower, moving with vampire speed to snatch a towel, wrap it round his waist, and catch the caller on the last ring.

"What?" he said grumpily.

"Shade?"

"Oh, hey Ianto. Got a job for me?"

"Jack said not to call you under any circumstances."

"Why?"

"We're going in after the 456."

"Good thing you ignored him then. I assume you and he will be having hero time together?"

"..Yes" Ianto sounded disapproving of Shade's summary, but Shade couldn't bring himself to care.

"Stupid bastard. Send the immortals on the dangerous jobs, first rule of having two on a team."

"We'll be at the building in ten," Ianto said, tactfully ignoring Shade's allusions to Jack's intelligence.

"I'll meet you there." Shade said, tugging open a wardrobe and scanning its contents with a critical eye.

"Okay Shade,"

"Wait, Ianto..."

"Yeah?"

"My friends call me Shay. It's less fucking pompous," Shade said, and hung up. He wasn't good with the emotional bit that came after an invitation like that. It always got awkward, and while in real life he couldn't cut off relations before the silences started, and the shy name-testing began, the wonders of technology let him do it this time round. Shade grinned at his victory and the fact he'd made a strong decision to place Ianto under the 'Friends' column in his life. The man was kind, unassuming, but there was something about him that said he was very, very strong. If Neville were still in Britain, Harry would think Ianto was him in disguise.

Shade scanning the wardrobe's contents, frowning a little. Of course, behind the false panels would be weapons, but it was the clothes that were worrying him at the moment. The only thing he could see that belonged to him was a pair of cargo pants. But the rest of the wardrobes seemed to consist of either Aleks', Mikki's or Keeran's clothes. Or, at least, the male clothes did. And also a few of Lucas' suits. Ianto might be able to head off and fight an alien menace in finely-pressed Armani, but Shade liked to be able to move, and most importantly, conceal his blades. He hadn't had any on him during the time he'd spent with the Torchwood team, but he had a niggling feeling he'd need them for this little jaunt.

Shade sighed and tugged out the least-Mikki clothes he could find, a simple white shirt. Tugging it over his head, he realised that it was just a tad too big. With a growl, he yanked it back over his head, and dug around in the wardrobe for something better-fitting, which probably meant wearing something belonging to Aleks, as the younger twin was a good few inches shorter than his beanpole of a brother. Near the back, Shade discovered a hidden gem of a shirt: it was white, and perhaps it had fake blood stains thrown across it, but at least it would fit him. Hair already dry, Shade stood barefooted and triumphant is a tight white shirt and baggy cargo pants. The black, trusty combats boots he'd worn on the way here were neither bloody or dirty, thank God, and Shade tugged them on as well. Finally, he was dressed, if not equipped.

Shade scrabbled at the back of the wardrobe for the catch to release the false back, and eventually his fingers caught it. With a tug, the back of the closet slid away to reveal a small armoury. Shade breathed a sigh of relief when he spotted two black katanas. Only he and Raph used swords actively any more, though Lucas kept a blade concealed in his cane. Raph used a jagged, ancient cutlass, but Shade's weapon of choice was sleeker and more deadly. He disliked guns, to an extent, but he tucked a small handgun into the waistband of his trousers, just in case. He strapped two hunting knives to his forearms, for close combat. He hardly expected to have to actually fight these mysterious beings: from their past dealings, using adults to deliver their goods to them, Shade guessed they either took pleasure in playing with those they preyed on, or they did not have the capacity to survive on Earth. If the latter was true, they would be in a specialised environment, and hopefully would be unable to harm them. Any human guards, however, were another issue.

Finally, Shade shrugged a harness on, and sheathed his favoured weapons at his back, the blades forming a narrow cross. All the weapons were hidden when he threw on a light brown trenchcoat, most probably left behind by Aleks, judging by the fit. Shade was going to have to thank his brother-in-law for the loan of the clothes. Shade checked his watch: he'd gotten ready in five minutes, which left him another five to get to the building where the government was currently storing the 456. Using the map of Cardiff he had from Gwen's brain, Shade began to work out a route, using Jack's memories of the creatures' appearance.

Four minutes later, he was at the building.

The run had left him exhilarated, breathing hard and ready for action. He might not need to breathe, but the air filling his lungs in long bursts was satisfyingly nostalgic from the time when his heart beat. He waited for a short while before seeing Jack and Ianto entering the street, about to go into the building. One last push of his legs, one breath of wind, and Shade stood before the pair, arms crossed and eyebrow raised.

Jack clicked the pieces into place quickly, to his credit. "Ianto..." the captain said, the warning in his voice obvious.

"Hello Jack. A little bird told me you were doing this thing without me. That's rude, don't you think?"

"Excuse me for not inviting the bloodsucking vampire," Jack snarked back, obviously more conversationally comfortable with Shade now.

"You're so racist," Shade said, brushing him off. "Shall we?"

Jack pushed past and carried on to the building, a mask of pleasant danger sliding easily over his scowl. Shade smirked happily, it was always a pleasure to get under the Captain's skin. Jack and Ianto held their guns in the air and Jack spoke confidently over the shouts to lay his weapons down: "We're Torchwood."

Shade declared no weapons. Guns might be permissible, but he'd been in government buildings before, and for some reason, samurai swords weren't as accepted. So he kept quiet, and followed on the heels of Jack and Ianto, until a police guard planted a hand in his chest in an attempt to stop him.

"Hold it, you," the man growled, obviously trying to assert his authority in front of his friends after being shown up by Jack. Unluckily for him, Shade was not in the mood to help his ego.

A slow, nasty smile grew on his face, and Shade gripped the man's wrist in his own pale hand, and removed it from him, but stepped closer, until he was right up in the man's face. The guy still wasn't afraid, Shade could see. He faced violent criminals every day on the streets of London, and while this man might be strong, he couldn't be older than twenty.

"One," Shade began, hissing the words into his face. "Never touch me again. Two, I'm MI5, you silly bastard. You'd do well to let me through. Three, you're on file, Geoffrey Hale. I know _exactly_ where you live." The man finally paled at the mention of the notorious spooks. Shade grinned again, and the man backed away quickly.

Shade took a step past him. "Thank you," he said pleasantly. The man nodded.

Shade caught up with the two men within seconds. He was faster than them by about ten times after all.

"What did you do?" asked Jack, without turning around.

"I take offence at that long-suffering tone, Jacko," Shade said casually, avoiding the question.

Ianto snorted, and then they were there.

Even Shade felt a twist of hate in his chest at the sight. The large glass tank, filled with a blue mist. Even vampire sight couldn't penetrate it, but vampire telepathy could, and Shade cringed at their thoughts. He felt himself go rigid, unable to even relax or he'd attack that tank, and you don't just anger things like that. He was at the left of Jack, Ianto on his other side. He wasn't even listening to Jack's arguments and his reasoning right now. His head was full of _children, good, pleasure, MORE, you cannot stop us, _and _THIS IS WAR._

Shade took a breath to calm himself, choked on the heavy poison in the air. The rhythmic pulse of gunfire was useless against the bulletproof glass, and Shade stopped breathing as fast as he could. He could hear the panicked screams of people downstairs, and from their thoughts he learned that the building had been shut down. Okay, there was a virus, and no escape route. He wouldn't die, but he'd probably go unconscious in about five minutes so his body could flush it from him without interruptions. Jack would be fine, but Ianto...

"Shit!" he cursed as the young Welshman collapsed.

"Can't you do something!" Jack snarled at him, but Shade was already by Ianto's side, pale fingers fluttering over his heart, his pulse, his breathing.

"I—I'm sorry," Shade choked out. "He's dying."

"I know that!" Jack said, hissing the words so he could shout without shouting. "But _you_'re technically dead, aren't you!"

Shade blinked as the realisation hit him, of what Jack wanted to do. He could, physically, but he'd done it before. Not everybody wanted to live forever, and going half-and-half was almost as bad. Shade shook his head frantically, hand still resting on Ianto's wrist.

"No, I can't, I..He has to give consent, he doesn't _understand_..."

"Shay..." His voice was faint, and the twitch of his fingers even fainter. Shade squeezed his eyes shut, bit his lip.

"Ianto, it.."

"Do it. It's okay."

Shade took a deep breath, not caring if he inhaled more of that damn virus.

"You're dying, even now..." intoned the 456 almost gleefully, and suddenly Shade had an outlet for his frustration. The hunting knife was in his hands before he even knew what he was doing, and he flung it, with all the strength of the vengeful undead, straight at the things flailing tentacles.

"SHUT _UP_!" he screamed, and the alien shrieked in shock as the blade stuck in the glass, millimetres from its flesh. Shade, shaking, returned to his task.

"Ianto, you have to do exactly as I say," Shade said softly, and with a silent prayer of forgiveness to Draco, to Jack and to anybody else who was listening, he lifted Ianto's wrist to his mouth. A quick flick of the head was all that was needed to open up a thin but deep cut over the man's pulse point, glinting white fang now stained with his blood. That Ianto didn't gasp in pain was a sign of how fast he had to work now.

Shade ripped a slash in his own palm, being much less careful, as Jack looked on in horror at the blood spilling from Ianto's arm. Finally, Shade bit his other wrist savagely, until blood, almost black, much darker than a human's, was pouring from him too. The ripped hand, he pressed to the opening in Ianto's skin. The vampire virus travelled through blood, and it worked much faster than was physically possible for any other form of life. It infected other cells, and the virus quickly spread to the heart, which then pumped it to the rest of the body. The whole process took less than half an hour.

Time they didn't have.

Shade could take some of Ianto's blood, to speed it up, but then it was inevitable that Ianto would become a full vampire, and that was something Shade would never do again. He wanted Ianto to be a Halfling: aging a year every few centuries, and about half the strength, speed and endurance than a normal vampire. The only way to do that fast was...

"Drink," Shade commanded quietly, as he pressed his bleeding wrist to Ianto's lips.

Jack made a choking, horror-filled noise, but Shade ignored him. With some vampire blood in him, Ianto was much less reluctant that he would have been before the turning started, and Shade felt the unfamiliar sensation of his own blood being pulled from his veins.

Turning wasn't an exact science, but after a few moments, Shade pulled back, leaving dark red smudges of Ianto's mouth and arm. "That's enough," he said, and Ianto's eyes fluttered closed.

"What—" Jack started worriedly, but Shade cut him off with a lethargic wave of a hand. He could feel the dizzying sensation of his own body forcing itself to shut his brain off so it could work in peace, especially with the blood loss.

"He's sleeping it off," Shade said, the words slurring slightly. He became aware that his eyes had shut without him telling them too, and he cracked one open to see Jack's blurred face. He managed a grin for the man, mainly to piss him off just a little bit more.

"See you on the other side, Jacko," he muttered, and blacked out.


	6. Chapter 6

Shade woke, took a deep breath out of habit, and inhaled orange plastic.

Spluttering a little from the shock, since not having to breathe made to loss of oxygen more of a surprise than a life-ending incident, Shade rolled to the side in order to draw breath into his lungs. Like most vampires, he only breathed for the sense of smell, but in a place like this, it wasn't quite worth it. The stink of death and disinfectant of a school gym, hardwood floor pressing into his side, thick orange sheet still obscuring his vision. Shade sighed, but didn't move any more. Memories of the operation crushed his chest, turning Ianto sloppily, making him a Halfling, dying (again), losing his best fucking knife... If he was honest, he didn't know which of these he was the most pissed off about.

He heard her boots ringing eerily loud in the quiet hall before she pulled the sheet off his face. Gwen looked shellshocked, in mourning, and with a jolt Shade realised she didn't know Ianto wasn't actually dead. She would have known, of course, that he and Jack weren't quite as deceased as she'd been told, but if the soldiers told her they found Ianto's cold body, without a pulse or heartbeat, she'd simply assume he was gone. Shade smiled at her half-heartedly, and sat up, tossing the sheet impatiently onto another body.

"Thanks," he muttered grudgingly, not one to enjoy giving gratitude to others. But he felt that in such a situation, keeping polite was a way of keeping the whole thing stable, locked in normalcy for now at least.

"You're welcome," she murmured back, breath hitching with unshed tears as she slid a second sheet back to reveal Jack. Despite the severity of the situation, shade couldn't help cocking his head to one side and voicing the question burning on his tongue:

"...Does he use fake tan?"

Gwen make a sound, part choke, part laugh, and Shade grinned. He didn't want her to be too upset. After all, Ianto might be mostly dead, but mostly was a good thing. Mostly.

Shade watched her uncover Ianto with a pained expression. The deathly chalk white of his skin would be pretty much a permanent feature of him now, though he'd become slightly less Corpse Bride after some blood. The scuffs and scratches on his face would fade with a feeding too, and Shade tried to remember if he'd passed a blood bank on the way here. The Turning, no matter how partway, made you very hungry. Shade remembered: he ate a sheep after he woke up in a field, after a Death Eater attack, some anonymous vampire's blood thrumming in his veins. Almost dead, but not quite. After all, only Voldemort could kill him fully. And Voldemort didn't carry silver-tipped stakes: Greyback found it offensive. Or at least that's what Remus had said, grimfaced in Grimmauld Place, Shade's mind probing his in shock, finding relief and revulsion intertwined. He took the name Shade shortly after that.

He was shaken from his reverie by Jack's hand resting heavily on his shoulder. He hadn't even heard him move as he stared at Ianto. He jerked involuntarily at the hot pressure: human's emitted a shitload of heat when your own skin was the equivalent of granite in a snowstorm. But Jack, apparently unshaken by Shade's odd unconscious fidget, kept a firm grip on him, and Shade was glad despite himself. For all his faults, the Captain was essentially a good man doing what he could under exceptional circumstances. A man who'd do anything to save the man he loved, and that quality was something Shade could respect. After all, he'd done anything to save the man he loved.

"Did it work?" Jack said, his voice weirdly hoarse.

Shade nodded, swallowing. The brain activity was picking up. "He's just sleeping it off."

"Sleeping off what?" Gwen asked, turning from Ianto's still form.

"The Turning. It takes a lot of energy to die and then come back," Shade said softly. No matter that the corpses littered in neat rows around them couldn't hear their words, it felt disrespectful to say anything above a soft whisper.

Gwen's nearly inaudible gasp rang in Shade's ears. "Will he—"

Shade shook his head at the unasked question. "Not completely. He'll be a Halfling, a half-and-half, a halfer. Call it what you want. It's not an exact science, of course, but...he'll age about a year every century or two. Be about five times stronger, faster, better senses than your average human."

Jack opened his mouth to ask a question, but the conversation faded in their throats.

Ianto's eyes fluttered open.

Jack froze.

Gwen gasped.

Ianto lunged.

Shade moved.

The defence was awkward to say the least. He was behind Jack, who was just too fucking close to a newblood, Halfling or not, and Gwen was too close as well, and if Jack hadn't been there, no amount of boring O-type blood could have saved her. But Jack's golden blood, tantalising even to Shade, was irrestible to Ianto, not when he'd just Turned, not when he'd just come back. But Shade managed to slip between their bodies, getting his own face between Ianto's newly-formed fangs and the pulse point in Jack's throat, the miniscule beating visible to both pairs of vampire eyes. Ianto's fang nicked his face just below his eye, and as the blood of his sire dripped onto his tongue, Ianto faltered in confusion, and Shade took the opportunity to elbow Jack aside.

Pinning Ianto was harder than if the young man had been human, but Shade had been a vampire longer, fought in skirmishes with other vampires, and at the end of the day, Ianto was a halfer. He didn't quite fit in either circle, vampire or human, and while he put up a good fight, Shade straddling his chest and gripping both wrists in one hand was too much for the newblood to fend off. But he hissed, Strixi words spilling from his lips. Most to do with hunger, and Shade replied in the same tongue, one stored in vampire blood and fangs, passed down from sire to childe.

"_He smells so good!"_ snarled Ianto over Gwen's half-stifled sobs.

"_He is not yours to drink_._"_ Shade replied in kind, the authoritative voice of his maker piercing the haze of bloodlust. Sensing he was getting somewhere, Shade pressed his advantage, dipping his head to the halfer's forehead, he pressed their minds together, hissing, _"Remember!"_

He felt the click in his brain as human memories swirled to the surface, pulling back before he could intrude on his privacy. The red receded from Ianto's irises, and Shade released him, confident there would be no more psychotic episodes before they could get him some blood. As a human, Ianto's self-control had been good. As a half-vampire, it had the potential to be phenomenal. Already, his humanity was kicking his new vampiric nature into submission.

"Jack? Gwen?" the English sounded groggy, less vicious than the Strixi, at least. Nobody knew where the language had originated, but it had been named in Roman times. 'Of the vampires', it meant. Latin, of course. It seemed nothing in Shade's life would stop using the same pretentious language, from wizard spells to the elusive vampire tongue, unlearnable by humans and goblins alike, for all their attempts to get their grubby hands on old vampire literature and old vampire money. But with Strixi passwords on millennia-old vaults, the goblins were frustrated, and the odd treacherous vampire would offer their services as translator, swiftly culled by one race before they could work out what to do with their wages. Vampires were dangerous pests under Ministry law, subject to torture and ritual executions by silver-tipped stake through the heart. Many wizards saw them as a whole other species entirely, inhumane and feral. Something to be wiped out, for the good of the rest of us.

"Don't breathe," Shade said, glancing down to lend him advice and a hand, pulling the man to his feet even as he stood himself.

Ianto nodded a little uncertainly, and stopped the passage of air into his lungs.

"You'll be able to do that for days on end, but not indefinitely, so don't forget to breathe once in a while," Shade lectured, before turning his gaze onto Gwen and Jack.

"So, Jacko, what next?"

Shade was shaking by rage by the time the news bulletin ended. He knew politicians were unworthy scum in the Wizarding world, but the Muggle kind had caused him very little trouble by comparison. The odd berating when missions went awry was the only contact he got.

Snapping open his phone with a restrained violence that could have snapped the thing clean in half, Shade stabbed 8, and waited for Jerry to pick up. The voice, when it came, was weary and expectant.

"Yes, Shade?"

"WHAT IN THE NAME OF _FUCK_ JERRY? TELL MARIA I QUIT. IF MI5 ARE PART OF THIS I FUCKING QUIT, AND WHAT'S MORE, I'LL RIP HER _FUCKING THROAT OUT!_"

"Shade, it's not us."

Shade faltered, gripping the phone until the plastic casing cracked.

"What?"

"It's the military and the police. The Home Secretary isn't listening, Maria looks like she might send somebody to assassinate the 456 herself, and Sophie..."

Shit. Jerry's kid.

"Shit, Jerry, I'm sorry. Is she—" He couldn't bear to finish.

"She goes to a state school." An awful, hollow laugh.

"And?" Shade could feel an icy ball of dread clawing at his insides.

"If you're going to get rid of ten percent of the population, why not the worst ten percent?"

"Oh, no. No. There's no way-"

"But she's at home. I won't let them take her."

"Jerry, if they come, blow the bastards' heads off."

The laugh was a little more genuine this time. "Just keep focused. You're meant to help Torchwood."

"I know that. Look after Sophie, Jerry. I'll be back in London as soon as I can. There's no way they're touching these kids."

"Good luck."

"Luck is for failures." A pause, a smile that could be heard through the phone.

"Tell Lucy not to worry." Shade said, before hanging up, about to put the phone back in his pocket before the next call lit up his phone like a Christmas tree.

"Shade."

"Shay, they're taking the children." Lorcan's voice was disgusted and afraid.

"I know, I know. We'll stop them." Shade said, trying to be more reassuring than he felt.

"Lucas is sending out the kids now. London won't give up without a fight."

"Good, good. Spread the world. Newcastle, Edinburgh, Cornwall, Belfast, I don't care, but ten percent of the population means someone from everywhere. Vampires versus military." He laughed, a vicious feral sound, and beside him, Jack shivered.

"Wouldn't be the first time."

"Love you, don't die, have fun!" Shade said, pressing 'end call' to the sound of her laughter. Guiltily, he turned to the original Torchwood team.

"I can't help you with technology, aliens, subterfuge: not any of it. I'm shit with computers, actually. The only reason I'm here is because I'm the best cannon fodder around. But," Shade rifled in his pockets, pulled a black wallet with a silver badge on it, and handed it to the team. "It looks like Torchwood's lost it's clearance. But they never stop us from getting places. Ever. We're too fucking useful. Good luck."

Jack took the ID from his fingers. "No picture," he commented.

"I don't photograph well," Shade said, a crooked grin splitting his features.

Jack laughed.

The surprises continued when Shade hugged him, Gwen and Ianto is quick succession. The grin widened at their shock.

"Good luck, alright? Gwen, try not to get any lethal injuries. If the whole Torchwood team miraculously become immortal, my boss will _kill _me."

To his mild surprise, she smiled at him. "I'll do my best."

"Ianto, eat soon. Raid a blood bank if you need to, eat a pigeon, and don't breathe around Jack until you do."

"Alright Shay."

"Jacko...Don't do anything stupid."

"O ye of little faith, Shay."

Just this once, Shade didn't mention that Jack did _not_ have permission to use that name. With a smirk, he turned on his heel and headed for the nearest council estate. Nobody in Wales trusted the decidedly English government explicitly, and nobody was going to send their kids for a 'vaccination', not in rough areas like this. The government seemed to have conveniently forgotten that 'society's worst' would be the hardest to tear their kids from. They were distrustful, violent and poor. Their kids were all they had. Shouts come be heard from a few streets away, and Shade paused. Should he interfere, risk losing the only job that let him satiate his need for violence, possibly come to Dumbledore's attention, all for a group of kids he didn't know? Was it worth the idea that he could be sighted by a curious witch, somebody willing to give him over to the Ministry, for God-knows-what, for these kids who might never achieve anything in life _anyway_?

Of course it fucking was.

Snapping half a drainpipe from a nearby building like a twig, Shade swung the blunt, heavy weapon onto his shoulder, internally bemoaning the loss of his katanas, taken from him while he was presumed dead, and not returned, because what self-respecting military personnel would give lethal weapons back to Torchwood, their current greatest enemy? But perhaps it was better this way: he'd be hard-pressed not to 'accidentally' stab a kidnapper through the eyeball if he had his swords.

The fight was just starting when he arrived. The police, dressed in full riot gear, were shouting demands through a megaphone, while some kids were already being dragged kicking and screaming from their parents by ruthless black-gloved hands. Shade felt rage squeeze his throat, curl in his belly and tense his muscles. This was the first time he thought perhaps being a vampire was better than being a human. If he was human right now, he'd be apologising on behalf of his race. These people might have been told there was a vaccination, but they couldn't be stupid enough to _believe_ it. They were taking these children, and the kids were sobbing for their parents, and the parents were hanging back because, shit, they couldn't afford to be arrested _again_, child services would be called, and they would lose their kids anyway, and God, oh God, Kieran was only five, and please, please don't let them find Maya, curled on her bed in the flat—

Shade resisted the urge to press his hands over his ears to block out the thoughts, amplified by shock and desperation. Instead, he channelled his anger into his arms, and when a little black girl screamed for her daddy, for her brother, for _somebody_, and the man hauling her over his shoulder strode straight past him without realising, he snapped. The pipe whistled through the air, slammed into the policeman's head with a sickening crack that was sadly only his bulletproof visor. He stumbled, fell, but Shade's arms were around the girl before she could hit the ground, and her sobs softened.

Silence.

Shade let the girl down, watching her run back to the crowd of parents and kids, her mother clutching her close and all of them staring at him. The police stared in shock. A man with a pipe, sending cracks across bulletproof glass? Impossible. Even the megaphone was quiet. The man on the ground moaned incoherently, clutching at his head, and from what Shade could tell of his thoughts, he was temporarily deaf. A cold, cruel smile curved across his face, and Shade swung the pipe nonchalantly back onto his shoulder.

"Hello bastards," he said clearly.

Then the megaphone blared back into life, and the police steeled themselves visibly. They'd faced worse than one madman with a metal pipe in his hands, no matter how strong. It was obviously an effect of adrenaline, giving him that strength. They rushed forwards as one, yelling legally-required, meaningless phrases of comfort, nearly trampling their fallen comrade in a rush to arrest him, but Shade sank low, taking out kneecaps and taking hits from riot shields and police-issued batons.

Some went back to their original jobs, yanking, and Shade roared, "ARE YOU JUST GOING TO STAND THERE?" before sending a particularly vicious blow cracking down onto the collarbone of a officer trying to separate a little boy from his teenaged, determined sister. Men shook themselves into life and began yelling and punching, while mothers fought like tigers, and some just tried to delay the approach of the policemen, even if they had nobody to protect. He heard her gasp through the noise, but thought nothing of it. Instead, he said very quietly. "Run, or fight, but don't let that boy go."

"My-my name's Emma," she said, seemingly in shock.

"Alright Emma," he said carefully. "Staying, or going?"

The stubborn set of her mouth decided it before her brain did, and small she might be, but Shade watched with a laugh as he dug a knee viciously between the legs of the next officer to lay hands on her little blonde brother. Shade handed her the pipe with a shrug, smiling a little at her serious nod and the blow she directed at a man headed for the little girl two feet away, and launched himself bodily at the legs of a man carrying a toddler in completely the wrong way, sending the two of them tumbling to the ground, a wail coming from the little boy's mouth. Frantically, using vampire speed he hadn't appreciated until now, he cupped a hand underneath the child's head, protecting the fragile skull from the unforgiving concrete. Scooping the little boy into his arms, he stamped a foot down on the throat of the policeman, watching impassively as he gagged and choked for breath, blow softened by the body armour, but painful and panicking all the same.

"He's two, you motherfucking _bastard_," he snarled, eyes flashing crimson for a fraction of a second, and all Shade could think was thank God he'd eaten when he had, or this would have been a bloodbath. He kicked the man in the helmet, sending shockwaves through bone and brain. The temptation to kill him had his hands shaking.

"Where's your mum and dad?" he said to the snivelling toddler cradled to his chest protectively, an action he hadn't even realised he'd initiated.

"I don't _know_," the little boy said, hiccupping.

_Shit_. Shade cursed. He knew for a fact that, despite the example he'd made of this officer, he couldn't leave this kid unattended. He cast around desperately, ducking under a blow from some deranged officer, the kick he snapped into his chest enough to deter him for now, but without the use of his arms, he'd soon be taken down. He stumbled backwards into a skinhead kid, maybe eighteen, holding a crowbar and battering into a riot shield. He turned with a curse on his lips until he saw Shade's face, identified him as 'that cold motherfucker' and stilled his tongue. Uncaring about the respect they offered right now, Shade turned the boy's face to him.

"You recognise this kid?"

"I-yeah. It's Chris' little brother, innit?"

"And who the fuck is Chris?"

The skinhead pointed to a wiry blonde kid, fending off a police officer just by locking arms and grappling. Shade grinned, slapped the other man on the shoulder, and slipped back into the fray, sliding effortlessly among flailing arms and feet, snapping fingers into throats and ribs if he could, but mainly trying to avoid Chris' little brother being smacked around the head with a baton. He shifted the toddler, who had fisted his shirt and turned his face into his shoulder, into one arm as he approached Chris, grabbing his opponent by the neck and tossing him as hard as he could, sending him sprawling. Chris gaped, and Shade took advantage of the silence to press his little brother into his hands.

It wasn't until he saw the second van arrive that he knew this was a lost cause.

"SCATTER!" he roared at the top of his lungs. He'd never been more grateful to be surrounded by so many people familiar with police raids. As black-uniformed men poured from the second van, no doubt called as back-up, the whole estate emptied, families fleeing to bolt holes, or just into the streets, running from the onslaught. Shade was about to flee himself, before he caught sight of one boy, looking perplexed and afraid as men converged on him, frozen, and seemingly without anybody to help him. Shade cursed nastily under his breath and jumped, landing on top of the boy, and wrapped strong arms around a skinny torso, hefting him onto his back, and _running_.

He only stopped when they were on the roof of the building four streets away.

"You're fast," the boy said in awe.

Shade ran a hand through his hair in annoyance, a habit left over from the good old human days. "And you're slow. Why didn't you run?"

"My dad..." the boy swallowed. "My dad's a policeman. He said never to run."

Shade shook his head, hand still buried in clean black locks. The one boy on that estate that wasn't told never to speak to police. Just his fucking luck.

"What's your name, kid?"

"Caradoc. You're Harry Potter!"

Shade froze, hand on top of his head, and hair pulled back to reveal his famous lightning-bolt scar, a red line still marring his white skin after all these years.

A/N: DUN DUN DUUUUUUUN Long chapter as an apology for the frankly awful Ianto-turning chapter. Sorry about that. Anybody want to guess Caradoc's last name?


End file.
